


The Five Times Jaskier Was Shy, and the One Time He Wasn't

by Purplesauris



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Romance, M/M, but only like bare mentions of it, jaskier and geralt are idiots and i love them, jaskier is shy, some smut?, some violence toward the end, that's why it's mature though, this is a companion to artwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplesauris/pseuds/Purplesauris
Summary: Jaskier is boisterous and sure of himself- what does it take to make the man blush and hide his face? Less than one might think.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 237





	The Five Times Jaskier Was Shy, and the One Time He Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this came about purely because of a fanTASTIC piece of artwork that my friend @frostedbasilisk posted on tumblr and in our little group chat, and what can I say... I am WEAK for these two idiots.

Mornings were busy for them. They didn’t often spend a day in bed, and even when they did Geralt couldn’t bear to stay still longer than absolutely necessary. But, there were rare mornings when Geralt would wake up as the birds began to sing and the first rays of the morning sun hit his back through the window and decide not to get up. This morning is one of those days, where they’ve been traveling hard and Geralt could use a rest just as much as Jaskier. 

The sun is warm on his back and the breeze coming from the open window is balmy, and both of those things make him want to curl up for just a little while longer. Jaskier is asleep next to him, splayed out on his belly with the only pillow clutched under his chin with the sheet draped carelessly over his lower half. Geralt had long kicked it off in lieu of feeling the breeze fully, but the sight stirs something in him. Maybe it’s the quiet morning, or the way that the sun turns Jaskier’s brown hair golden in the light that has Geralt reaching to brush a few strands away from his face, touch lingering a moment longer than needed. No, not too long, Geralt reminds himself. Jaskier is  _ his _ , and he can look and touch and love as much as he wants without worry of heartbreak. 

Jaskier shifts next to him, squeaking softly and stretching as he stirs. Geralt watches the muscles in Jaskier’s back shift, lazily tracing his way back up to Jaskier’s face to find himself watched. A rare smile graces his face at the sight of Jaskier squinting sleepily at him, blue eyes soft in the morning light. “Somethin’ on my face?”

“No.” Geralt says quietly, voice overflowing, and his smile only grows when Jaskier’s cheeks flush pink and he buries his face in the pillow. Jaskier grumbles something along the lines of ‘quit staring’ and Geralt chuckles, rolling to snake an arm around Jaskier’s waist and pull him close. He presses soft kisses over the expanse of Jaskier’s shoulder blade and up to the slope of his shoulder, smiling against his skin when Jaskier giggles at the sensation. “C’mon little dove, we’ve got places to be.”

Jaskier whines, wiggling a bit and turning his head to peek one blue eye out at him. “Five more minutes?”

“Three.” Geralt replies, but doesn’t say anything when Jaskier takes his five minutes, and then a few more.

-*-

The forest is loud tonight. Geralt can usually ignore it with little trouble, but tonight the squirrels were leaping through the trees and the rabbits were scurrying through the brush particularly loud. The noise had grated on his nerves since they’d settled for the night, so he’d built a rather large fire and caught a couple of the rabbits that were lurking nearby. Jaskier had taken them with a quiet thanks, and had used their meat to make some sort of porridge for them. Geralt wasn’t picky on what he ate and it smelled good enough, so he wasn’t going to complain. 

The animals have begun to settle by the time they’ve eaten, but the owls and other nocturnal birds had started up in their stead. So Geralt had grabbed his swords and whetstone and sat near the fire to tend to his blades. The soft scrape of stone over metal was familiar and soothing, and with Jaskier’s heart nearby, beating steadily, he was able to finally begin to drown out the noises around him. He was nearly done with his swords when he heard Jaskier’s sharp intake of breath and heart begin to go wild.

He glances up, looking around for whatever had spooked him and finds Jaskier staring at him, cheeks awash with color and mouth hanging open. Geralt’s grip on the hilt of his sword lessens, and he raises a brow at the flabbergasted man sitting across from him. 

Jaskier clears his throat, reaching back and rubbing his neck in an uncharacteristically bashful movement. He mumbles something that’s lost in the crackle of the fire and a particularly rowdy owl, and Geralt sighs softly. “What?”

“I uh, you were humming.” Geralt tilts his head, unsure of what the problem is. The rouge on Jaskier’s cheeks is lovely with his complexion, and Geralt stares at him to remember the image for later. “One of my songs.”

“Ah.” Geralt sets his sword to the side, folding his hands in his lap and watching him a bit closer. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no not at all!” Jaskier’s cheeks flush darker, and Geralt smirks, quirking a finger so that Jaskier will come closer. The man does as he’s told without much fuss, and Geralt draws him into his lap, hugging him close. Geralt leans a bit closer, brushing his nose along the bards neck and softly crooning the words of a ballad that Jaskier had yet to sing in public. Jaskier squirms in his lap, but doesn’t make to move away even when Geralt’s grip loosens to let him escape.

-*-

The winter was a long one. Jaskier had been unable to winter with him in Kaer Morhen due to the academy, and so he hadn’t seen his bard for months. Sleeping had been hard without a soft, warm body against his and the steady, familiar beat of Jaskier’s heart. His brothers had teased him mercilessly about his moping and tired eyes, but they seemed to understand, perhaps better than he’d expected them to.

Still, he’s glad to be back, and this time they’re meeting not in Oxenfurt, but in Novigrad. Geralt had business there when the snows finally let him leave, and Jaskier had said he would make his way there after classes had finished for the semester. The city reeks as it always does and Geralt keeps a sharp eye out for thieves, but he’s left unmolested and makes his way to the Golden Sturgeon. They hadn’t agreed on which bar to meet at, but Geralt was patient, and if Jaskier wasn’t here, the Kingfisher would be his next destination. 

Geralt can hear him before he even gets inside; the dulcet tones of his voice accompany the melodic strumming of his lute merrily, and Geralt slips inside quietly. His hood is up to protect from an early spring rain, and Jaskier is in the far corner, perched atop a barrel and singing to his heart’s content. Geralt takes his place at the bar, far enough that the other patrons aren’t bumping into him and hidden enough that Jaskier hasn’t seen him yet. Jaskier is just as he remembers, eyes bright and doublet a soft lilac. It’s a true spring color, but the snows have barely melted and Geralt knows that Jaskier is only trying to usher spring in a bit quicker. Warmth spreads through Geralt’s chest and down to his toes at the thought of finally, finally being here with Jaskier again, and he can’t help the small, foolish smile that tugs at his lips. 

He enjoys watching Jaskier when the other man doesn’t know he’s here. He’s different, cocky and sure of himself and devilishly charming. Not that he isn’t that way around Geralt, sometimes he’s even moreso, but Geralt enjoys the easy way he carries himself around strangers. Geralt orders an ale and sips at it slowly, listening as Jaskier launches into a bawdy sea shanty at the request of some drunk sailor. He’s halfway through the song when his eyes skim over Geralt in the back and then fly back to latch onto him a moment later. Jaskier doesn’t falter, but Geralt can see even in the shitty light of the tavern that the tips of Jaskier’s ears go red. He pushes his hood back now that Jaskier has seen him, and listens to him finish his song before thanking the crowd for their attention. 

He slips gracefully from the barrel and pads through the crowd, making a beeline for Geralt and smiling. “You’re here. When did you get in?”

“Not long ago.” Geralt responds, taking a drink from his tankard and slipping an arm around Jaskier. Jaskier leans against him easily, and Geralt’s fingers dance over the bumps of Jaskier’s spine. Jaskier shifts a bit in his arms, and Geralt tugs him a bit closer, turning to press his nose just under Jaskier’s jaw. He takes a deep breath, heart settling when Jaskier's scent- lavender and sweat and happiness fills his nose. Jaskier smiles at the contact, and Geralt presses a kiss on the soft skin of Jaskier's neck. 

"Geralt?" Jaskier's voice is quiet, and Geralt hums against his skin. Gods but he missed the way that Jaskier smelled, the way he felt in his arms. When Geralt begrudgingly pulls back to look at him he finds Jaskier blushing, glancing around the room and pressing a bit closer. 

"Hmm?"

"You're very affectionate." He points out, and Geralt merely shrugs at that. While usually Jaskier is the one making Geralt squirm with loud declarations of love and saucy winks during a set, Geralt has his moments of possessiveness, where all he wants to do is hold Jaskier close and press kisses into the column of his neck.

"Missed you." 

"Apparently so." The bard muses, and though his cheeks are red and he teases Geralt endlessly, he doesn't push Geralt away when Geralt spends most of the night with his face tucked into Jaskier's neck, listening to the rest of the world but focusing solely on Jaskier. 

-*-

Geralt's hands were steady as they held onto Jaskier's hips, drawing him just a bit closer. He rolls his hips up, pressing a bit deeper and basking in the needy gasp that Jaskier lets out. Jaskier's thighs are snug around his sides and he doesn't think he'll ever tire of having the man in his lap, especially not when he can see Jaskier's eyes hazy with lust.

Geralt grinds his hips up, watching the way that Jaskier's eyebrows scrunch and listening to the little moan he gets in return. Jaskier peeks an eye open when he hears Geralt begin to purr, and he smiles softly, kissing Geralt as best he can when the man is doing his best to grind directly against his prostate. 

"What is it, love?" Geralt knows that by now Jaskier can tell when he's thinking, and he hums low in his throat. He kisses Jaskier again, just to prolong the moment, and answers as he takes Jaskier in hand.

"You. You're enchanting." The word feels silly and foreign on his lips, but he can't think of any other way to describe him right now. Jaskier blinks in surprise, and Geralt watches his cheeks flush as he ducks his head down to kiss at Geralt's neck. Geralt allows the sweet kisses for a moment before using a hand to gently draw Jaskier back, stealing a kiss for himself. "I love you."

Jaskier slides his hands down Geralt's chest, tracing scars and smiling against his lips. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are a delightful, flushed red, and Geralt wonders how he can still be so shy. "I love you too."

-*-

It's high summer. Geralt is used to wearing black on top of black, and though heat doesn't bother him until it's extreme, he can still feel the hairs on the back of his neck stick, damp with sweat. Jaskier is no better- he's long since taken off his buttercup yellow doublet and tucked it away, rolling up the sleeves of his chemise and undoing the ties. Geralt has to focus to keep from staring at the column of his throat and the way that the shirt frames him so nicely. Jaskiers fingers dance over the neck of his lute and pluck at the strings, something he does well even while walking, and Geralt will admit he likes whatever song that he's begun to create.

They're halfway to the next town, sun high in the sky when Geralt perks up, glancing off to the east and nostrils flaring. Jaskier takes notice immediately, the notes from his lute fading as he allows Geralt a moment of silence. Geralt cocks his head, closes his eyes, and when he opens them he sees such naked hope on Jaskier's face that his heart beats a little faster.

"The river." Jaskier lets out a whoop and hops in place, grinning from ear to ear. Even Roach seems excited, stomping a hoof and shaking her head as if to say  _ what are you waiting for? _ Geralt adjusts their path and follows both the smell of water and the sound of it, holding back a smile when he sees Jaskier jog a few steps ahead and then wait for him to catch up.

The air coming off the river is blissfully cool compared to the stagnant summer wind they'd been having, and even Geralt sighs softly. Just because heat doesn't bother him doesn't mean he enjoys it. Geralt sweeps the area for drowners but finds none, and he leads Roach to drink and leaves her to rest under the shade of a tree. Jaskier has tucked his lute away, stripped butt naked, and is already in the water by the time Geralt has his gambeson off. Geralt just huffs fondly and continues to undress himself. He gathers the rest of his hair up and away from his neck- he doesn't particularly feel like having it get wet today, nor does he want to feel like he's soaked in sweat when they begin their trek again. He secures it into a messy pile atop his head as best he can, and when he looks toward the water he sees Jaskier staring, eyes just above the surface of the water. He quirks a brow and Jaskier goes under, apparently content to pretend he wasn't looking.

Geralt finally joins Jaskier in the water, sighing at the relief the water brings. The temperature difference makes his knee and thigh twinge uncomfortably, but Geralt stands still until it subsides and heads deeper into the water to cool off. Geralt stays in the water until his fingers have begun to prune, enjoying the weightlessness of his limbs and the way that Jaskier swims laps around him just because he can. 

"This is nice." Jaskier says, floating on his back next to Geralt and holding his hand so he won't drift too far. "Should we get going? Don't want to be out after dark."

"Hm." He doesn't  _ want _ to move yet, but Jaskier has a point and Geralt knows it. He tugs Jaskier to his feet and heads for shore, snorting when Jaskier shakes his head like a dog, spraying water droplets everywhere. Geralt gives him an unamused look, but Jaskier merely grins and places a kiss on his shoulder before heading off to dry and get dressed. Geralt dries off and dresses much quicker than it takes to get undressed, and he takes a moment to observe their surroundings.

And if those surrounding happen to be mostly Jaskier, well, that's his business. Jaskier has put his pants and boots back on, but he seems hesitant to put his shirt on just yet and get warm all over again. Geralt takes this time to admire his bard; the muscle that he keeps hidden under fancy silk and lace never fails to take his breath away. He's lean, strong in a way that Geralt doesn't often see in most humans. While he's given to the finer, softer things in life, his legs are strong from all their traveling and his chest and arms toned from hefting bags and strumming away at his lute. He's unfairly attractive, and Geralt swallows back the words he wants to say.  _ You're beautiful. I love you. Don't leave me. _ They swirl in his head in a near constant storm- make him choke on a breath whenever Jaskier glances his way with a sly smile on his face or grabs onto the edge of his armor to yank him down for a kiss regardless of how he reeks of monster guts. 

Geralt is deep enough in his musing that he doesn't realize he's been caught, his own cheeks warming slightly as Jaskier covers his chest and bites his lip.

"It's very improper to stare at one while they dress, you know."

"Thought it was while they undressed." 

"That too!" Jaskier wags a finger at him, mock frowning, but his cheeks are red and Geralt knows it isn't from the heat. Geralt's eyes flick over Jaskier's face, searching for any true anger, and finds his gaze drawn to the soft arch of Jaskier's cupid's bow. He glances up, unable to help the way his gaze drifts, and finds Jaskier red as a cherry. 

Geralt stands from his spot under the tree and walks over, kissing Jaskier softly and sighing when Jaskier melts against him. He feels Jaskier reach up, and his hair cascades down from its tie as Jaskier buries a hand in the strands.

-*-

“ _ Fuck you _ .” Geralt has an arm around Jaskier, holding him back as he rages at the man in front of him. “He’s more of a man than you could  _ ever _ be.”

Witchers were a sensitive subject for Jaskier- especially his wolves, who he’d seen lay their lives on the line countless of times not only for him, but for people who would never care for them. Who stiffed them on contracts and spat at their feet as they walked past. Geralt is used to hauling Jaskier away from whole groups of people, puffed up like a peacock and wielding his words like the sharpest of blades. While the words, the stones and jeers were cruel, they didn’t hurt the way that they used to- not since Jaskier had come into his life. 

“They aren’t men.” The man was drunk, even more so than the friends of his who goaded him on, and he physically hears Jaskier’s teeth grind together in anger. Geralt pulls Jaskier back a couple more steps, presses his lips to Jaskier’s ear and speaks low and soft. Jaskier sags in his grip, and though the iron scent of Jaskier’s anger is clogging his nose and blurring his mind, he can tell Jaskier is done. Geralt lets him go then, turning to go- but the man can’t leave it alone. “ _ Mutant lover _ .”

There’s the sound of someone spitting, and Geralt knows it isn’t directed at him this time. He turns on his heels, snarling and bearing his teeth, but Jaskier is already leaping forward. He tackles the man to the ground, punching him in the face and  _ roaring _ in fury. The others, though obviously with him, back away as Jaskier lands blow after blow, and Geralt hears the dull crunch of bone as Jaskier breaks the man’s nose. Geralt takes a few heavy steps forward and plucks Jaskier off of him, snarling just as loud when Jaskier snarls at him. The sound stops Jaskier short, causing him to blink blue eyes dark with fury and truly look at who’s got him. Geralt doesn’t dare set him down, hoisting the protesting man over his shoulder and dropping a few crowns on the man’s chest. “Go get patched up.”

He turns and walks away then, carrying Jaskier away and not setting him down until they’re safely back in their rented room. Jaskier is still fuming, Geralt can see that, so he leaves the man to mutter to himself while he gets something to wash the blood from Jaskier’s hands. He washes Jaskier’s hands gently, looking for any damage and humming when he finds none other than a few bruises. 

“Good form.” Is all he says, placing featherlight kisses to Jaskier’s bruised knuckles and letting go of his hands. Jaskier snorts, shaking his head and releasing a heavy sigh. With it the tension goes from Jaskier’s shoulders, and he takes Geralt’s hands back into his to kiss his fingertips. 

“I love you.” Jaskier murmurs, glancing up at him with dark, sea storm eyes. 

“Even for a mutant?” Geralt means it as a joke, but a shadow crosses Jaskier’s face. Geralt is about to apologize when Jaskier takes a few steps forward, herding Geralt back until he sits on the edge of the bed and Jaskier is standing above him, between his legs. Jaskier dips forward, tipping Geralt’s chin up with a firm hand and kissing him fiercely. Their teeth clack together uncomfortably and one of Geralt’s fangs cuts his lip, but Jaskier laps at the wound and groans into his mouth. Geralt huffs when Jaskier presses kisses over his jaw, dragging his teeth over sensitive skin. “Jask-”

“I will spend a thousand years being called worse than that man called me today, so long as I spend it loving you.” Now, it’s Geralt’s turn to flush. The admission goes straight through him, makes his head spin and his heart race wildly. Jaskier chuckles when he pulls back and sees Geralt’s red cheeks, kissing him again before murmuring against his lips. “And I’m about to spend the night proving it to you, love.”

  
  



End file.
